


5 times realisation struck Neil & 1 time he acted on it

by alex_wh0



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: AFTG Fall Exchange 2020, Alternate Universe, Autumn, Demisexual Neil Josten, Fluff, Halloween, M/M, Mutual Pining, Poetry, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26421064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alex_wh0/pseuds/alex_wh0
Summary: "Neil looked across the room at Andrew and felt a surge of affection so intense that it stuck in his throat. He wondered how someone who had rolled out of bed barely an hour ago could have the audacity to make him feel like this."orFive times Neil Josten had a realisation and one time he did something about it.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 91
Kudos: 386
Collections: AFTG Exchange Fall 2020





	5 times realisation struck Neil & 1 time he acted on it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [makebelieveanything](https://archiveofourown.org/users/makebelieveanything/gifts).



> Hello, Madison! I tried to fit in most of the prompts you like into this fic and made it as fluffy as andreil would allow it. I hope you like roommates Andrew and Neil pining for each other while Neil's demi feels hit him out of nowhere xx
> 
> Thank you to [psych0midget](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cominupforair/pseuds/psych0midget/) and [nightquills](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightquills/) for reading it through and telling me "it makes sense oh my god post it". 
> 
> Okay now get to reading fastfast (and have fun)!

1.

One very ordinary Wednesday morning, Neil had the disconcerting realisation that he wanted to reach across the table that separated him and his roommate and kiss the butter off his lips. He took a deep breath. He took a bite of pancake. He struggled against the sudden onslaught of _feeling_ that threatened to drag him under.

“Neil?” came Andrew’s voice, but all he could see was how the sunlight burnished his pale hair to gold, the way he could see flecks of gold and green in the hazel of his eyes, the way his freckles were scattered all across his forehead and cheekbones like little constellations. Neil Josten thought with sudden and blinding clarity that he was looking at the most beautiful man on earth.

Andrew looked the same way he had every single day in the past year – blonde hair fantastically mussed in the mornings, mouth turned down in a frown, his expression flat, but Neil’s head spun for a moment, dizzy with a sensation he couldn’t name.

He grinned sheepishly, knowing that his behaviour was more off-key than most mornings. “Sorry, just thinking about something,” he said, spearing a blueberry and popping it into his mouth.

“You are capable of thought then?” Andrew snarked from across him, ducking quickly to avoid a blueberry Neil threw at him.

“Asshole.”

“Speak for yourself. I’m not the one who is zoning out first thing in the morning.”

Neil bit down on a grin. “Not my fault,” he snorted. “Someone made pancakes for breakfast. I am merely a victim of circumstance,” he said airily waving his fork, while Andrew glowered at him.

He methodically spread butter on another pancake, folded it in half, took a big bite and wondered what had changed, and how someone who had rolled out of bed barely an hour ago could have the audacity to make him feel like this.

“What plans,” Andrew asked around a mouthful of toast. They did this every morning. Neil woke up at ungodly hours and went on a run, careful not to slam the door on the way out, but Andrew jolted awake anyway.

“I can’t help it if you are a light sleeper, Andrew,” Neil kept telling him, and Andrew always sighed.

“I can hear you puttering about in your room. Do you even sleep?”

“I sleep enough,” Neil always bristled in response.

They both knew he did not. They both knew it was futile. Andrew once got Neil a ‘Sleep Is for the Weak’ poster as an ironic gift and was suitably horrified when Neil actually got it framed and hung it over his bed.

By the time Neil would be back, Andrew would be in the kitchen, stirring eggs in a saucepan or whisking together pancake batter, or sometimes, when he was in an especially good mood, he would make French toast. Neil had tried to reciprocate once or twice but ended up charring toast and scalding himself that Andrew banned him from cooking anything ever.

“Ever?”

“Ever, Neil. Don’t set foot in here without adult supervision.”

“Ha ha.”

“I’m serious.”

“Fine I said fine,” Neil had said, slamming the door to his room on his way to the shower.

They would sit down to eat and Andrew would sometimes read out the news from his phone, ignoring Neil when he asked for Exy scores. They’d swap stories about Neil’s annoying professors and Andrew’s writing progress, his weirdest ideas for his next book and Neil’s thoughts on how movies never got knife wounds right.

Andrew would then take a sip of his coffee and ask “what plans?” and Neil would tell him. Or sometimes Neil would ask Andrew “what plans?” and Andrew would tell him. Some days the conversation was good, some days the silence was better. They wove around each other – a dance both familiar and comforting.

“I have to submit a structure for my thesis,” Neil sighed, resting his head on the table. Andrew grimaced as if to say “ _so glad I’m not in school anymore_ ”. Neil flicked another blueberry at him and huffed, “Stop gloating.”

Andrew smirked, “I did not say anything.”

Neil rolled his eyes, “You don’t have to.”

Nicky and Kevin called them an old married couple. Aaron, Andrew’s twin, pretended he didn’t see anything. Matt and Dan cooed at them annoyingly every time they were over. Andrew and Neil, for their part, ignored their friends and family.

“But Neil doesn’t swing,” Matt told Nicky once when by some stroke of (rotten) luck, all the people they knew separately somehow landed up in the house at the same time.

“He doesn’t,” Andrew had said, abruptly leaving the couch and banging the door to his room shut.

“I don’t,” Neil had agreed.

He fidgeted with his plate now, unsure of himself, very aware that he was slowly coming undone in a way that he did not have the tools to recognise. He watched Andrew as he stood up to clear his plate, trying to figure him out. Some part of him acknowledged that Andrew was attractive, but now the roaring surge of awareness making its way through him demanded that he face it.

Neil felt the urge to take the hem of Andrew’s soft grey sleep shirt and rub it between his fingertips. He wondered what his arms would feel like around Andrew’s shoulders, if his hair would tickle his chin when he pressed him to his chest. He shook his head.

“Neil,” Andrew’s voice rasped at him. He sounded a little concerned. Neil looked up. He hadn’t noticed when Andrew had gotten back to his seat.

“What are you thinking?”

“ _For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright_ ,” Neil murmured, fork clutched tight in his hand, like an airplane paused mid-flight, unaware if it was going to crash or propel itself higher.

Andrew looked at him suspiciously and then reluctantly replied, “ _Who art as black as hell, as dark as night_.” And then, “Really? Shakespeare in the morning?”

Beneath the table, Neil clasped his hands between his thighs to stop them from trembling. He cleared his throat and stood up, certain that if he remained sitting in front of Andrew, he would burn from the inside out. He stopped next to Andrew, who looked up, slightly tilting his head back, a little puzzled at the way Neil was acting that morning.

“Josten, are you sure you’re okay?

Neil rolled his eyes. “Yes, Andrew.” He reached out his hand, stopping inches from the sharp line of Andrew’s jaw. They breathed in sync – in and out, in and out.

Neil held back, slightly unsure. “You have a bit of chocolate here,” he murmured, half to himself, and looked into Andrew’s eyes. Gold and green, Neil thought to himself. _Gold and green._

At Andrew’s nod, he swiped his thumb at the corner of his lips. “There,” he said, a tad awkwardly and walked out of the kitchen, taking with him the feeling of warm breath on his thumb, the feeling of stubble on Andrew’s chin, and his own pulse – thundering in his ears.

In the safety of his room, Neil brought his thumb to his lips and let it linger.

He could feel his heartbeat on his skin.

~*~

2.

Neil’s second realisation came to him a week later when he was standing in the middle of a supermarket aisle. He stared down at a pack of chocolate chip cookies and fought down the urge to buy every single pack that the store stocked. He pulled off four more packs from the shelf and dumped them into the cart in front of him.

Matt dropped some chips next to them and looked at him. “Are you having a party without me?” And Neil looked back at him, puzzled. “What party?” Matt gestured to the cart and Neil looked, really _looked_ at the cookies and the ice cream piled into it.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Matt echoed, a little incredulous and Neil scowled. “It’s for Andrew, not me.”

Matt hummed and walked past him, “Why are you doing his grocery shopping?” And Neil felt his neck grow hot for some reason. “I’m not?” He meant it as a statement, but it came out as a question. Matt frowned and Neil ducked his head, throwing in some fruit and yogurt into the cart.

“Then why are you –” he cut off, eyes growing wide. “Neil,” was all he said, and Neil wanted to hide. To burrow into his hoodie so that he wasn’t _there_ anymore.

“What,” he said defensively and Matt held his hands up, schooling his face into an impassive mask.

“Nothing. Nothing at all,” Matt said, walking away. His retreating back irritated Neil so much that he snapped, “I’m getting these for him. He didn’t ask.”

He never asked for anything. Because Andrew was Andrew, and he was acutely aware of the complexities that surrounded give and take. He never asked, but Neil understood.

Matt turned to face him, opened and closed his mouth. “You know what?” he said after a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter.”

“What doesn’t?” Neil said, confused. “Matt?”

But Matt was already in the next aisle and Neil had the distinct feeling that he was missing something that was right in front of him.

-

“Are these for me?” Andrew asked, already ripping open a cookie pack. “Thanks,” he said around a mouthful of chocolate and cookie, and Neil smiled – a secret and relieved thing. He sat with his back against a wall of books, legs stretched out, touching another wall of books, Andrew on his left and cookie crumbs in the space between them.

“You look like a chipmunk,” Neil laughed, poking his right cheek lightly with the tip of his forefinger, hurriedly withdrawing his hand when he felt Andrew still.

He was getting increasingly touchy. He knew. He _knew_.

His fingertips found any excuse to gently skim Andrew’s clothes innocuously, as though they had minds of their own. Andrew never commented on it, but Neil had grown to learn Andrew’s little tells and he knew that every time he slightly brushed against him, Andrew’s breath hitched, or he stilled.

Neil didn’t push because he didn’t understand why his body betrayed him like this. Neil didn’t push because he never would.

But he knew that Andrew knew.

“Shut up, Josten,” Andrew mumbled, folding his feet under his thighs and sitting up straight. “Renee will kill us if she finds us loitering. I’m supposed to be working.”

Neil smirked behind the palm of his hand. “So work.”

Andrew shot him a glare and stood up, showering Neil with crumbs, ignoring his yelp of indignation.

All through the afternoon, Andrew snuck in cookies every time he was sure Renee wasn’t looking. Neil laughed, very aware that he was grinning more than usual. The more Neil grinned, the more Andrew glowered at whoever stepped into the library. He glowered at the books he re-shelved, he glowered at the ceiling, and at Renee when she smiled at him. And Neil sat there, in Andrew’s uncomfortable wooden seat at the front desk and riffled through trashy crime novels, laughing at the notes someone had left in it.

“They’re right, though,” he snorted. “That scene is a useless addition to the book.”

“Neil,” Andrew sighed. “Don’t support vandalism of library books like this.”

“But,” Neil snorted a laugh and showed Andrew a note scribbled in the margin of page 182. “ _That is just shoddy shooting_ ,” Andrew read out tonelessly, and then took the book from Neil’s hands and added it to the re-shelving pile.

“I was reading that,” Neil said, indignant.

“Borrow it then.”

Andrew worked, Neil fidgeted.

At one point, Andrew turned to Neil, his body angled toward him and asked him “ _why?_ ” Neil knew he was referring to the empty cookie packets which were now sitting in the bin beneath the table. He looked up at Andrew, gaze snagging on the constellation of freckles that dotted his skin.

“Honestly?” Neil said and Andrew gave him a minute nod. “I don’t know,” he shrugged.

Something crossed Andrew’s features and disappeared quickly. He busied himself with the books in front of him, but right before he walked away, he murmured into the silence between them, “ _A scar’s width of warmth on a worn man’s neck. That’s all I wanted to be._ ”

“ _Sometimes I ask for too much just to feel my mouth overflow_ ,” finished Neil, but Andrew was gone.

-

Later that night, tucked under his covers, Neil lay looking at his ceiling, counting the number of times his fan creaked in a minute. His shirt felt scratchy against his skin and he rubbed absently at the scar on his shoulder.

 _why did I buy all the cookies_ , he typed out to Matt and immediately erased the text.

 _why do I want to buy him everything_ , he typed next before deleting it too.

 _what does it mean to make someone happy_ , he typed into his browser’s search bar.

 _matt, I don’t know what’s happening,_ he typed out and deleted the letters one by one.

 _‘matt’_ was all he sent in the end.

He set his phone aside and went back to looking at the ceiling. The fan creaked 7 times a minute. Outside the window, night fell soft and dark and cold.

Inside, Neil burned – slow and thorough.

~*~

3.

“But it’s movie night.”

“I know,” Andrew said, his voice a little synthetic through the phone’s speaker.

Neil dug his fingers into the seat of the couch. ‘ _Where are you going?_ ’ danced on the tip of his tongue, but all he said was “okay”.

“Neil,” came Andrew’s voice.

“Yes?” he answered.

“I know you’re disappointed.”

Neil gave him a watery laugh in response that convinced no one. “But it’s not Friday.”

A pause, and then, “What does that mean?”

Neil stilled. He hadn’t meant to say that. Andrew hadn’t gone to Eden’s in a while, Neil realised with a jolt. He now spent Fridays with Neil, and weekends, and most of the week too. Neil put his hands between his thighs in an attempt to stop them from shaking.

“Nothing. It means nothing.”

Andrew huffed out a breath and Neil could picture his face – eyebrows drawn together, mouth a flat line, a study in stoicism. But Neil knew how his nostrils flared when he was angry or the way his right eyebrow twitched in surprise or the way a corner of his lips tugged up helplessly sometimes when he looked at Neil.

“I know you’re annoyed,” Neil bit his lower lip.

“You don’t know shit, Josten,” Andrew said, voice gruff.

“I don’t care.”

“You don’t?”

“I mean,” Neil scrambled to find the right words. “I do but I also don’t.”

“That’s very eloquent of you.”

“Shut up, Andrew,” Neil laughed.

“Don’t wait up for me,” Andrew said before he hung up and Neil thought “ _damn we are an old married couple”_.

He walked from the couch to the kitchen, leaned against the counter and slowly demolished an orange. He tried not to think of Andrew at Eden’s. Not that Neil had any right but thinking of Andrew anywhere near Roland made him feel tight and uncomfortable.

“Why does it matter so much to me?” he mumbled, leaning against the fridge next. The magnets on it dug into his back. He tipped his head back and thought of the way Andrew signalled to Roland from their table every time they went to Eden’s. And the way Roland winked in return. And the way Andrew rolled his eyes back at him. 

He never asked, Andrew never told him anything. But Neil wasn’t completely oblivious.

Something underneath his skin itched and Neil’s feet carried him out of the kitchen. He tore out a post-it from the stack on the coffee table. He scribbled “ _You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.”_ and slapped it on the fridge, anger bubbling up, threatening to spill over.

He walked into his room and stood in front of the mirror. “He doesn’t owe you anything.”

He took a deep breath, “Why do you care where he is?”

Another breath, “Why do you care who he is with?”

Neil frowned at his reflection and struggled at the sight of scars that crisscrossed his shoulders, arms and face. He thought of the day he met Andrew, who had leveled him with a bored and blank gaze.

“Don’t get in my space, and I won’t get in yours,” he had said. “Laundry day is Saturday. Rent on the third of every month. No sex in the common areas.”

Neil had blushed. Andrew had rolled his eyes. 

“He seems okay,” Neil had later told Dan and Matt, who had been very against him moving into Andrew’s apartment.

“But-” Matt had begun, and Neil cut him off, “I don’t care what people say. He doesn’t bother me and I don’t plan on bothering him.”

But the lines had eventually blurred. Andrew and Neil swapped chores – he did the cooking, Neil did laundry, they tossed a coin to decide who did cleaning. They went out everywhere together, their friends were friends with each other. Andrew knew about Neil’s scars, his bloodied past. Neil, in turn, knew what gave Andrew his nightmares.

The lines had blurred impossibly, and Neil didn’t know where he began and where Andrew ended.

“There is no way he likes you,” he now told his reflection sternly, the light cocooning him in soft warmth. “Stop thinking he likes you. There’s nothing fucking likeable about you,” he spat and turned away abruptly, sifting through his clothes and pulling on a pair of running shorts.

While Neil ran, he convinced himself that he didn’t swing for anyone.

He told himself in the shower that attraction was an absurd concept, and no, he didn’t feel that tug toward anyone, especially his roommate who believed boundaries were the most important thing.

He put on a Fast and Furious movie and attempted to forget the shape of Andrew’s eyes, or the way he tilted his head when he was confused but didn’t want to show it.

Neil snacked on popcorn for dinner and struggled to push away images of Andrew’s smile, the tone of his laughter in the morning, the way his entire body seemed to light up when he saw Neil.

“Shut up,” he yelled at the ceiling and threw the remote across the room. “No, I’m not jealous. I’m not.”

-

When morning came, he found himself tucked into the couch, a pillow under his head and blanket around him.

Neil sat up, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He yawned and checked the time. _4:30am_.

On the table in front of him, was a post-it note. The same one, Neil realised with horror, that he had stuck it on the fridge last evening mid-tantrum. It glowed neon pink under the low light of the room. Beneath his hasty scribble, was Andrew’s writing – neat and orderly. “ _Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.”_

Neil’s head spun. He felt dizzy for a split second.

“I am in so much trouble,” he said to the empty room.

~*~

4.

“You like him.”

“Wh-what?” Neil stopped mid-sentence and stared at Matt.

They were all crowded into Neil and Andrew’s apartment – his friends and Andrew’s friends. Matt and Dan had brought Kevin, Allison had wanted to come once she knew Renee was going to be there. Somehow, Nicky had a sixth sense that twitched every time there were more than four people in their house. And Aaron had grudgingly accompanied him, his girlfriend Katelyn in tow.

“Neil,” Matt nudged him with his shoulder.

“Who?” Neil hedged.

Matt rolled his eyes and took a bite of chocolate, chomping down, oblivious to Neil’s wince.

“Don’t act stupid, Neil.”

Neil pressed his lips together. “I’m not sure, Matt.”

“That’s a lie,” Matt replied, licking his fingers and stretching his legs out on the table. “I think you do.”

Neil looked across the room at Andrew and almost smiled at the surly expression on his face. He felt a surge of affection so intense that it stuck in his throat.

 _I like him_ , Neil thought, feeling sticky and hot, the realisation driving the breath out of his body.

“How did you know,” he whispered to Matt, eyes still glued to Andrew.

“Okay,” Matt cleared his throat, sitting straight and turning toward Neil. “You never shut up about him.”

“Wha-”

Matt held up a hand, “Let me finish.” Neil shut his mouth.

“Every conversation we’ve had in the past year, every time we meet, every time we talk, you bring up Andrew’s name. It’s always Andrew this, Andrew that.”

Neil gawked at Matt.

“You do these things for him,” Matt gestured. “Like shopping for the things he likes, like hunting down for obscure shit he mentions in passing. Having breakfast every day with him-”

“But he makes the best pancakes,” Neil said, words tumbling out of him before he had a chance to think.

Matt smirked, “Yeah, you’ve told us.”

Neil scowled.

“About a hundred million times.”

Neil scowled more.

“I didn’t know it could be like that,” he muttered.

“Like what,” Matt asked, putting an arm around his shoulder and slouching back into the seat.

“This intense,” Neil frowned. “The sight of him overwhelms me sometimes. I don’t know where to put everything I’m feeling.”

Matt sucked in a breath and tilted his head up. “You have to tell him.”

Neil was quiet as he watched Kevin and Andrew argue about something. Andrew chose to look up at that moment and their gazes met. Andrew cocked his head to the side as if to say “ _okay?_ ” and Neil nodded, smiling slightly.

“You guys have your own code,” Matt chuckled and Neil punched his arm.

“I’m sure he doesn’t feel the same,” Neil breathed out quietly. “It’ll make things awkward. We’re roommates, Matt.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “Okay, first,” he stretched his hand and popped Neil on the back of his head.

“Ow,” Neil glared at him and rubbed the back of his head, but Matt ignored him.

“First, stop overthinking this. Second, if he doesn’t feel the same way, we’ll deal. And move on.”

Neil’s gut twisted at that. He knew he would move on if Andrew said no. But he didn’t want to.

“And third,” Matt continued, “I think he does.” At Neil’s questioning look he added, “I think he likes you.”

When Neil didn’t respond, Matt sighed. “I see the way he looks at you.”

Neil scoffed down and folded his arms over his chest.

“Kevin tells me he keeps bringing you up in conversations.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Doesn’t it?” Matt said mildly.

“We should go to Eden’s!” a drunk Nicky yelled from the kitchen, and Andrew jumped up even as Neil froze. “He’s stealing my Halloween candy,” Andrew muttered, rushing to stop his cousin.

It should have made Neil laugh, but all he could think of was how miserable he felt. Eden’s meant loud music and crowds. Eden’s meant alcohol. Eden’s meant Roland. Eden’s meant Neil would have to be stuck at a table with Kevin while Andrew disappeared for approximately 30 minutes. Eden’s meant jealousy and guilt warring with each other.

Matt leaned back and rested his head on Neil’s shoulder, and voiced Neil’s thoughts. It was spooky, sometimes, the way Matt knew exactly what was going through Neil’s mind. “Kevin says Andrew hasn’t been to Eden’s in months.”

Neil knew, but something settled in his chest at that. He didn’t want to acknowledge it. He knew Andrew didn’t go out as much on Fridays, choosing to hang out with Neil. He didn’t know how to feel about it. “I don’t care,” he retorted, clasping his hands between his thighs, trying to breathe through his nose.

“Sure, Neil,” Matt patted his shoulder and got up.

Neil stuck his tongue out at him and closed his eyes, letting the sounds of the party wash over him. He quietly snorted to himself for thinking it was a _party_. Andrew would hate it.

“I hate it,” someone sat down next to him, grumbling, and Neil automatically felt the beginnings of a smile stretch his lips.

“That so?”

“Shut up, Neil,” Andrew grumped.

Their thighs brushed together, but they didn’t move away. Neil thought that maybe this was what peace felt like.

It was the thrum of familiarity. It was the lack of urgency. It was the sound of his friends bickering. It was the solid presence of Andrew next to him.

Neil took a deep breath.

“What did Matt want,” Andrew asked, ripping open a pack of cheetos.

 _A confession_ , Neil thought. “Nothing,” he said.

Andrew raised his eyebrow and Neil rolled his eyes at him. Neil was very aware of all the points their bodies touched, each spot a burst of heat that wrapped around him, scalding him from within.

“We don’t have to go.”

We.

 _We_.

Neil didn’t have a name for the explosions that skittered down his body.

“It’s been a while,” Neil said, closing his eyes again. _I am in so much trouble_ , he thought.

Andrew hummed and popped a cheeto into his mouth.

He said, “ _enough of can you see me, can you hear me, enough I am human, enough I am alone and I am desperate._ ”

“ _enough of the animal saving me, enough of the high water, enough sorrow, enough of the air and its ease,_ ” Neil finished, turning his head slightly to look at Andrew, and found him looking back.

He always looked back.

He was always looking back.

Neither of them mentioned the final line of the poem, which they both knew said “ _I am asking you to touch me_ ”.

“Are you nerds done? Let’s go,” Nicky yelled, crossing the room, and Neil hurriedly looked away from Andrew’s lips, face flushing.

If this was what peace felt like, he could get used to it, he thought, pulling on his jacket and following Andrew out the door.

~*~

5.

Realisations have a way of sneaking upon a person, Neil thought as he looked at his phone. And it happened in the most mundane places. In kitchens.

In the dusty aisles of grocery stores.

In the safety of your living room.

In front of a lecture hall, while staring at an exposed brick wall.

“ _When are you coming home?_ ” the text on his phone read and Neil smiled – helplessly, involuntarily. It was a messy, uncontrollable warmth that bloomed through him, heating his chest, the back of his arms, his neck, the tips of his ears. Neil felt the blood rush to his cheeks and realised that something was off with him. _Different._

Neil Josten hated his phone because it connected him to people when all he wanted to do was run, run, _run_. And now it perplexed him that the very thing he loathed brought him joy.

 _“Home”_ , he read out loud. Home.

Home.

 _Home_.

He remembered one night weeks ago when he and Andrew were sprawled on the rug of the living room, back stretched out on the floor, feet up on the couch, passing a bag of chips between each other.

“Can I come with you tomorrow?” Andrew had said.

“Where?”

“On your run.”

Neil turned to look at him, squinting in the muted yellow light of the room. Andrew’s hair was mussed, and Neil’s fingers had longed to touch it, to run his hands through it.

“Andrew,” Neil had laughed, “You don’t even like walking half the time. What makes you think you can run.”

He had grinned at Andrew’s scowl.

“I- just,” Andrew paused. Neil waited.

“I focus better around you,” Andrew shrugged. “Everything kind of slots into place. You know?”

Neil didn’t know then. He had nodded his head and joked that Andrew just needed an excuse to stick to him. Andrew had thrown a cushion in his face and left the room.

But understanding swamped him now, on the sidewalk in the middle of the university, with people milling around him.

“Fucking hell,” Neil swore, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt up and replied “ _Now”_ to Andrew’s text and tried hard not to run all the way to their apartment.

-

Andrew was sprawled on the floor (as usual), his feet up on the couch (as usual), glasses perched on his forehead (also usual). Neil flung his bag on the couch and plopped down next to him on the floor. He pulled down Andrew’s glasses and earned a glare in return.

Neil hid his grin into his shoulder. “Why are you not at the library?”

“Evening shift.”

“Uh huh?” Neil looked at him. “And what did you today? Apart from stuffing your face with cheetos.” Neil picked up an empty packet and grimaced. “Seriously.”

Andrew shoved at him and Neil yelped. He rested his forehead against Andrew’s knees and closed his eyes.

“Fall break is next week.”

“Mmm,” Andrew said, closing his eyes.

“Kevin invited me to his Halloween party.”

Andrew snorted.

“I said yes.”

At this, Andrew’s eyes flew open. “What?”

Neil shrugged, the movement gently pushing at Andrew’s legs. “I figured, why not?”

“Why not,” Andrew mumbled.

“Will you come with me?”

“Are you asking me?”

Neil felt his cheeks burn. He coughed. “What?”

Andrew smirked. Neil pushed his legs off of the couch. “Fuckface.”

“Thanks, Josten.”

Neil got up.

Andrew tugged at his shirt.

Neil looked at him, at his mussed up hair, the tank he always wore inside the house, at the armbands, at the freckles dotting his cheeks, and wondered how it would feel to kiss each and every one of them, gently.

“I need something.”

Neil arched his eyebrow. Andrew rolled his eyes.

“I’m stuck with my writing.”

Neil said, “Okay?”

“What do you think home is?”

Neil stumbled. “You’re asking me?” he said, incredulous.

Andrew looked back at him, gaze steady and sure. “Yes, you,” he said, and then “You know why.”

Neil knew why. Neil knew why because he had no concept of _home_ until he was well out of childhood. Home was a pipedream, an abstract concept, something he usually refused to think about.

Neil swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’ll have to think about it,” he whispered into the room, into the evening light seeping in, and the autumn air cool and crisp.

“Okay,” Andrew let his shirt go.

“Okay,” Neil echoed.

-

He spun his phone between his fingers, over and over and over until it was a shapeless blur.

“ _A sense of belonging_?” he typed and erased.

“ _Safety_ ” he typed and erased.

“ _Comfort_ ” he typed, grimaced and erased.

“ _The feeling that surges through me sometimes when I look at you, swift and ferocious, that pushes and pulls within me, asking me to do anything for you. Anything. Anything. You are home. You. You make me feel like I’m enough-_ ”

Neil took a long shuddering breath and released it in a whoosh.

He erased the message letter by letter.

Instead he typed, “ _Here's the house with childhood whittled down to a single red trip wire. Don't worry. Just call it horizon & you'll never reach it_” and pressed send.

His phone pinged with a reply almost immediately. “ _here's a room so warm & blood-close, I swear, you will wake — & mistake these walls for skin_”

Neil spun his phone around and around in the darkened kitchen.

~*~

+1

“Have you figured out a costume yet?” Andrew said even before the door closed behind his back.

“Huh?” Neil was at the kitchen table, shredding a paper napkin into tiny pieces onto his laptop. “What costume?”

Andrew slid off his shoes and threw his bag onto the couch. “Your Halloween costume, Neil.”

Neil grimaced. “Do I really need one?” Andrew looked at him, incredulous expression very out of place on his usually blank face. “What the hell.”

“Why is this such a big deal,” Neil grumbled, folding his legs underneath him and pulling his laptop close, brushing the bits of shredded paper away.

“Because,” Andrew said.

“Because?”

“Because.”

“Very convincing, Minyard.”

Andrew cracked an evil smirk and plopped into the seat in front of Neil. “You know if you don’t wear a costume, Kevin will find one for you, right?”

“No!” Neil gaped at Andrew. “Tell me you are kidding.”

“I am not,” Andrew replied solemnly, tossing an apple from hand to hand. “And he has the skimpiest clothes.”

“Fuck,” Neil groaned. “Why did I say yes to this stupid party? I hate parties. You know I hate parties.”

Andrew got up, “You asked me to come with you.” Neil fought down a flush that threatened to take over his cheeks.

“You, Neil. Not me,” Andrew walked around the table and stepped closer to him and for one heart-stopping moment, Neil thought Andrew had looked at his laptop screen before he slammed it shut.

Andrew narrowed his eyes. “Are you watching porn at the kitchen table, Neil?”

“What?” Neil yelped, voice coming out squeakier than he expected.

“We eat here,” Andrew gestured. “This place is holy.”

“Why is it holy?” Neil mumbled, confused.

“Is nothing sacred to you?”

“No,” Neil shrugged, feeling like he was walking into a trap.

“So you admit to it?”

“Admit to what oh my god,” Neil yelled.

“Hmm, Josten. A little defensive today, aren’t we?” Andrew said, smirking, and backed away from Neil.

And Neil. Neil felt warmth burrow into his chest, felt it settle there like it belonged and he couldn’t tamp down on his blush even if he wanted to. Neil Josten realised that he was irrevocably gone for his grumpy roommate who made him breakfast and made him smile, and that he needed to do something about it or he’ll never forgive himself.

So he did the only thing he was capable of at the moment. He panic-called Matt.

“What time is it?” Matt answered, voice heavy with sleep.

“11,” Neil grumbled at him. “11, Matt. Why are you still sleeping?”

“Fuck off not everyone wakes up at ass o clock,” Matt mumbled and Neil rolled his eyes.

“Um,” Neil cleared his throat. “I think I’m panicking.”

Matt was instantly awake, voice sharper than Andrew’s knives. “Are you okay?”

“I’m FINE,” huffed Neil and swore he could _see_ Matt’s annoyance over the phone. “It’s just-”

“What? What oh my god Neil just spit it out who do I have to threaten wha-”

Neil rested his chin in the palm of his hand and sighed. “Matt shut up and listen to me for one minute or I will walk over and kick you awake.”

“Must you be so violent so early in the morning?”

“It’s 11am!”

“Early,” Matt yawned. “So, what’s up?”

“Now he asks me what’s up,” Neil muttered. “I think I have to tell Andrew,” he whispered, making sure the door to Andrew’s room was closed.

“Matt?”

“Are you still there?” he pulled the phone from his ear and checked to see if the call had dropped.

“Matt, say something or-”

“Are you sure?” Matt eventually said and Neil almost dropped his phone.

“YOU,” he said before lowering his voice. “You were the one who constantly pestered me to tell him.”

“I mean,” Matt began but Neil cut him off. “I’ve realised things,” he huffed.

“What things?”

“There’s too many. But in conclusion, I think I like him very, very much,” Neil mumbled, ignoring Matt’s whoop. “But there’s something I have to ask you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah.”

“You can ask me anything, Neil.”

“Oh? Then I want your Exy racquet signed by Kayleigh Day.”

“No,” Matt’s voice was a scandalised gasp. “I’m not letting you touch that.”

“Not even once?” Neil smirked.

“Not even once,” came Matt’s solemn answer and Neil laughed.

“Okay keep your damn racquet.”

Matt was quiet on the line and Neil balled up another paper napkin and absently threw it at the fridge. “If,” he began and stopped, pausing to swallow the sudden lump in his throat. “If it doesn’t work out, can I come stay with you and Dan for a while?”

Neil heard Matt exhale on the other end and rushed to fill in the silence, “I mean only for a little while until I find a place. I’ve already begun looking for places, just in case and I think Andrew might have seen my laptop screen and-”

“You’re always welcome here,” Matt eventually responded, sounding as choked up as Neil felt and the relief that coursed through Neil felt unreal.

“Th-”

“If you say thank you, I’ll steal your running shoes.”

“See, now I don’t know if I want to stay with you anymore.”

“That’s a lie. Take it back, take it back now,” Matt growled and Neil laughed again.

He didn’t notice the sound of Andrew’s door opening and shutting quickly.

-

Six hours later, Neil stared at Andrew’s door. It was still shut.

He bit his lower lip hard and fretted, all while staring at the block of wood separating him from Andrew.

It had been six hours since he had gone into his room. Neil had eaten an apple for lunch, rearranged passages on his thesis document, knocked once on Andrew’s door, worried a little bit until the panic consumed him and he had to breathe in and out to calm down.

The rational part of his brain told him that this was regular behaviour for Andrew, for both of them, but his paranoid side told him that Andrew hated him for some reason and he didn’t know how to feel about that.

“Fuck,” he exhaled, dimly noting that he was, in fact, sprawled on the floor of his room. He jumped up and strode out of his room, getting ready to bang on Andrew’s door until he opened it and glowered at him.

But before he could knock, Andrew opened the door. And glowered at Neil.

“Um,” Neil said, words failing him for a moment. Andrew looked annoyed, his hair stuck up on one side, his tank was rumpled and he had pillow creases on his left cheek.

“What,” Andrew asked, frowning, and pushed past him to sit on the couch. Neil half-turned, possessed by the overwhelming need to blurt out the truth.

“Um.”

“You already said that.”

Neil rubbed the back of his neck and paced in front of Andrew. “I- I might have something to tell you.”

And Andrew deflated. He sank back into the cushions and closed his eyes. “You’re moving out.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a flat statement and it threw Neil off balance.

“What?” he frowned but Andrew didn’t open his eyes.

“I heard you talking to Boyd.”

Neil froze, “What the fuck?”

Andrew’s eyes snapped open. “It wasn’t intentional. I wanted a snack and stepped out and heard you telling him that you wanted to stay with him.”

Neil said “uh” and then “um” and then “did you hear me say why?”

Andrew glared at him. “No. But I’m assuming you aren’t happy here.”

An shocked laugh escaped Neil. “Is this why you’ve been sulking in there for six fucking hours?”

“I was not sulking,” bristled Andrew. “Excuse me if I need time to process that my roommate wants to leave.”

Neil gawked at him. He walked toward Andrew and kneeled in front of him. “Andrew.” his voice cracked. “Andrew, look at me.” Neil felt like he was poised at the edge of something so vast that he felt he wouldn’t be able to breathe if he stood still any longer.

“I need you to listen to me, Andrew. Can you do that?” Neil looked up at him and found Andrew staring back at him, puzzled.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Neil drew in a breath. “I was looking for places to stay because I was scared. Terrified, really.”

Andrew’s brows drew together but he kept quiet, waiting for Neil to continue.

“And I am scared because sometimes when I look at you, there is this overwhelming urge to keep you close and never let you out of my sight. Sometimes all I talk about is you, and most of the time you’re the only thing on my mind.”

Andrew scoffed and turned his head, but Neil didn’t miss the way his cheeks turned faint pink.

He swallowed and pressed on, “I like you. I really, really like you. The way you act grumpy in the mornings when I ask you for bananas in my pancakes, the way your gaze never leaves me when we are in a crowded place and everything in me screams run, run and run. The way you see me and don’t flinch, not at my scars, not at my past, not at me.”

Andrew’s gaze was back on Neil’s, scorching and unwavering.

“I am scared because I haven’t felt anything so devastating or intense before and don’t know what to do with all this messy warmth I feel. And I am scared because I have no idea if you feel the same way.”

Neil took a deep breath and continued, “I don’t know if you see me that way and I will never pressure you into anything, but some part of me hopes you do.”

Andrew shifted slightly and looked at Neil. “You don’t swing,” he said.

“I don’t.”

Andrew gestured as if to say “ _then?_ ”

“Turns out I swing only for you.”

And then abruptly, impossibly, Andrew averted his eyes from Neil’s and blushed. Neil made a strangled noise in his throat but refused to look away.

“Since when?” Andrew bit out, sounding annoyed.

“Um. A couple of months.”

Andrew leaned forward and tilted Neil’s chin up. “You are an idiot, Neil.”

“Wha-”

“Because if you’d noticed, you would have known that I’ve been looking at you since the day you moved in.”

Neil gaped at him. “What?”

“Yeah,” Andrew sighed and then grimaced. “Nicky said I was _pining_ ,” he shuddered, and Neil couldn’t help the shocked laugh that tore out of him.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he demanded and Andrew took his hands into his. Neil felt his heartbeat in the hollow of his throat.

“Because you didn’t swing then. Because I looked and looked and you never looked back for the longest time. And then you did and I barely knew what to do,” Andrew muttered, pulling Neil up. Neil went willingly.

“Can I kiss you,” Neil asked shyly. Andrew nodded once and then twice and tugged Neil closer until he was sitting next to him.

“Yes.”

Neil kissed him, feeling hot all over, his heart almost beating out of his chest. Andrew pulled at his hands and placed them on his shoulders and Neil held on. And he kissed him. And kissed him. And kissed him like they alone had the right to exist – the two of them caught in a bubble of their own choosing.

Andrew pulled back an eternity later and rested his forehead against Neil’s and brushed their noses together. Neil breathed him in. Andrew’s hands circled his waist and he pulled him onto his lap.

“Neil,” he murmured into the skin of his neck and Neil held back a shiver.

“Yeah?”

“ _and if I were to say I love you and I do love you and I say it now and again and again would you say_ -”

Neil turned his head to look into Andrew’s eyes. He crooked a smile at him, “ _parataxis, would you see the world revolves anew, its axis you._ ”

Andrew kissed his shoulder, his lips skimming a nasty scar.

Neil smiled to himself – secret and relieved. “Sap,” he said fondly and Andrew kissed another scar in response.

If this was what peace felt like, Neil thought he’d do anything to keep it close to his chest.

“Oh,” he said a minute later, straightening so fast that he elbowed Andrew in the ribs.

“What?” Andrew glared at him.

“This means I wouldn’t have to move in with Matt. Right? Right? Oh my god.”

“No,” Andrew growled, pulling him closer and closer and closer.

Neil laughed, bending down to kiss Andrew again, wondering if he would ever stop wanting to.

-

An hour later both of them stared down at Neil’s bed where he had laid out his Halloween costume.

“Seriously?” Andrew gestured at the bed and turned to face Neil. “Is this supposed to be a joke?”

Neil stifled another laugh. Some part of him was aware that he had laughed more times in the past hour than he had the whole month.

“I mean,” he coughed delicately into his fist. “I was pretty scared.”

Andrew glowered down at the black jeans and the turtleneck and armbands Neil had placed on the bed.

“Neil,” he said, tugging him out of the room. “You are not going to the party as me.”

“But imagine,” Neil yelped as Andrew let go of his shirt abruptly. “Imagine how funny it would be.”

Andrew scowled.

“I want to look at Nicky’s face when I walk in. Oh and Kevin’s. Shit, Aaron’s too.”

Andrew scowled harder.

“I hate you.”

“I know, Andrew,” Neil said, his tone disgustingly fond and Andrew pushed his face away.

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me in the comments or on [Tumblr](https://alex-wh0.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/alex_wh0) or everywhere if you like
> 
> List of poems:
> 
> 1\. [Sonnet 147](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/56227/sonnet-147-my-love-is-as-a-fever-longing-still/) \- William Shakespeare  
> 2\. [Notebook Fragments](https://readalittlepoetry.wordpress.com/2018/03/15/notebook-fragments-by-ocean-vuong/) \- Ocean Vuong  
> 3\. [Wild Geese](http://www.phys.unm.edu/~tw/fas/yits/archive/oliver_wildgeese.html/)\- Mary Oliver  
> 4\. [The End of Poetry](https://sites.utexas.edu/humanitiesinstitute/2020/05/08/ada-limons-the-end-of-poetry/) \- Ada Limón  
> 5\. [Someday I’ll Love Ocean Vuong](https://www.poetryinvoice.com/poems/someday-ill-love-ocean-vuong) \- Ocean Vuong  
> +1. [Syntax](https://poets.org/poem/syntax-0) \- Maureen McLane


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